Torn Apart
by pacejunkie
Summary: After siding with Locke for protection, Charlie gives his assurances to Claire that they’ll always be together. But something may have gone horribly wrong. What if Charlie were one of the O6? Oneshot.


**Title:** Torn Apart

**Summary:** After siding with Locke for protection, Charlie gives his assurances to Claire that they'll always be together. But something may have gone horribly wrong. What if Charlie were one of the O6? Oneshot.

**Rating:** PG-13/T

**Characters:** Ensemble and I mean it.

**Word Count: **4,793

**Spoilers:** Up to 4x04 _Eggtown_

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Lost, Charlie would have been one of the Oceanic 6. How cool would that have been?

* * *

"I'm telling you Des, we've got to get them to believe us, they're not who they say they are!"

They were both breathless, rowing the outrigger back to shore with furious strokes. Charlie had been down there, prepared to meet his destiny and bring rescue to his friends, when he found out something that changed everything. As quick as he could he had run from the control room, grabbed a confused Desmond and the two of them dove out of there with a flood of water at their heels. There was no time to think or look back, and they weren't done running yet.

"But I saw…" Desmond was insisting, trying to make sense of what Charlie had told him.

"Forget what you saw!" Charlie said as they rowed, nearly there, "I spoke to Penny remember? She doesn't know who these people are. Why would Naomi lie?"

"I don't know."

Neither did Charlie, but with Desmond's name and a photo of Penny, it was an elaborate lie at that, which told Charlie that something sinister was going on.

"We've got to warn them," Charlie decided.

They hit the sand, jumped out and pulled the canoe in, just as some of their campmates were running to greet them. Charlie was sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it could have been worse. At least Desmond wasn't returning alone and Charlie could still protect Claire and Aaron if this freighter meant real danger. He could hardly believe how close he had come to not coming back. Charlie had bought Desmond's visions and the idea of destiny wholesale; or was it just that he was so tired of running from death that he was ready to give in?

_Well that day may come yet_, Charlie thought, _but for now he still had work to do. Death would have to wait._

There was mixed reaction to the news on the beach, but things really got interesting when they reunited with the entire camp out by the cockpit wreckage in the jungle. Claire had obviously been worried about him, despite her promises to the contrary. Her eyes scanned the crowd anxiously and when they found him she ran into his arms, surprising him. Charlie had never had such a reception from Claire before. _I should go on suicide missions more often,_ he thought with a smile.

"Oh, Charlie," she cried, "when we didn't hear from you I thought…"

"It's okay," he said, holding her and Aaron tightly. "I told you I'd be fine."

She pulled back and looked at him, bringing a hand to his bruised jaw.

"Are you?" she asked.

He smiled, resisting the urge to flinch where his face still ached. He had worried her enough for one day; she could be spared the details of what he had gone through.

"I'm great, but we've got bad news. I switched off the jammer but that's not Penny's boat. Naomi was lying."

He spoke the words so clearly that all sounds of jubilation and gathering around them came to a halt. When he realized he had everyone's attention, Charlie turned to the crowd and addressed them.

"They're not here to rescue us," he said. "We need to protect ourselves."

It wasn't often that Charlie had the floor, and when he spoke he was reminded of the last time, nearly two months ago, when they were hiding in the caves from the Others and Charlie had tried to reassure everyone that danger was not coming. He frowned at the irony as he now sang a completely different tune. Danger was always coming here; it just lurked around different corners.

Everyone's anxious mutters were halted by a commanding voice to their left.

"He's right."

Charlie turned to see Locke emerge from the jungle. At the same time he noticed Jack clenching his fists and his jaw. Charlie knew the two had had their differences but he didn't know what had happened to make Jack act like this.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jack demanded.

"I'm here for the same reason you are Jack," Locke answered, "to protect our people. Only you're so fixated on that boat you can't see the truth. They've come for their own reasons and we'd better be out of their way when they get here."

Charlie had an arm around Claire and she was leaning in to his shoulder as they listened. In the end, it came down to a choice that they all had to make; whether to trust the people on the boat and go out to meet them, or trust the signs of trouble and hide. Locke was taking whoever wanted to join him to the barracks where they would be safe. Claire was looking at Charlie now, awaiting his decision, trusting him to make it for the three of them. When Locke finished speaking Charlie turned to Desmond and took him aside.

"You said you saw Claire and Aaron get on a helicopter," Charlie told him, wondering why he hadn't thought of it before, but like Jack, he too had been fixated on rescue and willing to believe anything. It was getting harder and harder to have blind faith. "They'd been kidnapped before. Could it have been another abduction? How do you know it was rescue?"

Desmond shook his head, still clearly anguished and confused.

"I don't," he admitted. "But whatever they're here for, Naomi had my picture and she knew my name. I can't run from that. I need to find out what they're up to. Someone on that boat knows Penny."

Trusting Desmond's flashes had nearly gotten Charlie killed. As much as he wanted to know the truth he had to think of Claire and Aaron now, and come down on the side of caution. Survival was quickly taking precedence over rescue. Desmond clearly had his own agenda and it had nothing to do with him.

"Well you go do what you have to do, but I'm not taking any more chances," Charlie decided. "If it turns out to be rescue, you know where to find us."

One by one the group split. It felt like the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. Already the beach was becoming just a memory, one that Charlie was already missing for its false sense of security. Just then he remembered his ring, and he wondered whether Claire had found it, but if she hadn't then Charlie didn't want to mention it. Now that he had survived, he'd rather she not know what he had done, since it would likely bring up uncomfortable questions about what he had known before he left so he chose to let it lie. They would be back to retrieve it someday, hopefully on the way to a rescue boat.

Charlie's heart sank over the thought that he had failed to bring rescue, but then he looked at Claire, still worried but as happy as could be under the circumstances, with Aaron asleep in her arms and a great weight lifted from her shoulders.

She wasn't disappointed. She was just glad to have him back.

_At least they were together,_ Charlie thought as they walked off into the jungle with Locke at the lead. _As long as they stayed together they'd be all right._

* * *

It was a cool night, and Charlie dug his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket to warm them. An hour ago he had been on the phone placing his usual order and now he was here, waiting for his rendezvous. Charlie looked back over his shoulder as he approached the London alley. It was nearly midnight, and the streets were empty and silent apart from the stray siren and taxicab. Still, he was as nervous as always, heart thumping almost visibly in his chest over the fear of getting caught. But he had to come. He was all out and he needed more. There was nothing for it.

With one last hurried glance he entered the dank, Dickensian cobblestone street that just barely separated a chemist from a block of crumbling, turn of the century flats. Charlie sniffed and rubbed at his itching nose with a shaking hand and began to count out loud, emptying his mind of the usual thoughts that haunted him.

When Charlie reached eight a tall shadowed figure emerged from the back. As usual it was too dark to see his face but he mostly recognized him from his long, dark skinned fingers.

"Do you have it?" Charlie asked him.

The man's hand emerged from the darkness to reveal a small plastic bag. Charlie nearly salivated at the amount of brown powder. Reaching out quickly, he snatched the bag before the man could change his mind.

"There's plenty more where that came from remember," said the man in a deep voice with a slow, measured tone, "as long as you keep your part of the bargain, Mr. Pace."

"Don't worry," said Charlie, nodding eagerly and fumbling to open the bag and take his first hit. When the drugs ran out the pain of his reality returned with the force of a sledgehammer, and Charlie was willing to do anything to avoid that pain. "I won't say anything."

In the seconds it took for the drug to take effect the man was gone.

* * *

It was idyllic, bordering on fantasy -- wide green lawns, a play park, shingled furnished cottages with hot water and electricity. It was even better than the comforts of the hatch. This was like a neighbourhood, complete with neighbours, such as they were. Claire had held Charlie's hand the entire trek, as if afraid he would go away again if she let go. When they arrived at the barracks, it was no question that Charlie and Claire would share one, settling down with their little bundle of baby ready to play house. Charlie didn't know how long they would stay here but for now he simply enjoyed the luxury of it after living like hoboes for three months. The house they had selected even had a piano to Charlie's great joy.

The only thing they were not yet sharing was a bed but judging by Claire's increasing affections, Charlie guessed it wouldn't be long. He was content to let Claire take the lead with that decision, particularly since they both knew the dangers of pregnancy on the island. Charlie was in no hurry as long as things were good between them, and they were.

There was no plan exactly, other than to hunker down and stay safe, while they awaited news on the boat people. Naomi's crew might still be their saviours but with each day that passed and no word from Jack's group Charlie grew less certain of that and more convinced that they had done the right thing.

"Don't you just love porches?" asked Claire as they sat out on their veranda drinking tea one morning, watching the world go by as Aaron slept between them in a new little bassinet they had found. "I've decided that wherever we live next, we've got to have a porch."

"Anything you want," said Charlie, "just no beach houses."

Claire laughed, "Agreed."

Just then Sawyer came strolling by. "Morning, Barney, Betty…" he looked over at the sleeping baby, "Bamm-Bamm."

Charlie smiled. He was getting used to Sawyer and in an environment as bucolic as this, finally was able to find him amusing.

"Good morning Fred," Charlie replied. "Off to the Moose Lodge?"

"Hugo may be island ping-pong champ but there ain't no one here's going to beat me shooting pool," he said. "You wanna come and place your bets?"

"Nah, maybe later," he said.

"All right then," Sawyer said with a wave, heading off to the rec room.

Charlie was still chuckling when out of the blue Claire said, "Do you really think rescue will ever come?"

Charlie looked at her seriously. "Of course it will. Things are much better than they were and they're only going to get better. If not this boat there'll be another. Now that we know someone knows how to find us anyone could come."

"They can now that you've switched off that jammer," she said, beaming at him. Claire had been looking at Charlie with something close to worship since his return, reminding him constantly what a hero he was. Charlie frowned a bit at her attentions -- he would feel like more of a hero if he could actually get them off the island. He wondered what Claire was thinking because she suddenly appeared distant, as if realizing how close she had come to losing him and any kind of future they might have had.

He reached over and took her hand. "Someday soon, we'll leave here, and when we do, it will be all of us. Together."

She got up with a sly smile, came over and sat in his lap with her arms around his neck, kissing him, "And we'll have a house with a porch?" she teased.

"And a white picket fence," he said, nibbling at her neck, "even a dog if you like."

"Sounds perfect," she purred.

* * *

He woke up fully dressed in the middle of a rubbish pile on the floor of his flat. He didn't know what time it was; Charlie had long ago lost all sense of time, counting the hours only by one fix to the next. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about but he was sure it had to do with Claire again. They were always about Claire. The woman was relentless; she'd occupy every space in his brain if not for the heroin. The only time he couldn't chase her away was when he slept.

He dragged himself up, showered and went to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, winced at the bright light and groaned when he saw the empty shelves. Slamming the door, he plugged in the kettle instead. He'd have to go out and pick up a few things. There was no bread for toast; the only items in his cupboard were a tin of tuna, some risotto he had long ago lost the energy to cook and a jar of peanut butter. Angrily Charlie shoved the peanut butter to the back of the cabinet. It must have been his subconscious that had bought it; he couldn't stomach the stuff anymore. He really should throw it out but every time he tried he stopped and put it back on the shelf where it taunted him daily.

Charlie drank his tea, but the raw caffeine was no friend to his churning, empty stomach. He didn't know if the nausea was from his liquid breakfast or the fact that he hadn't fixed in over twelve hours. He would have to take care of that first, and then he could head to the shops.

As he was putting his cup in the sink the phone rang.

"Dude, is that you?" the voice said, "It's Hurley."

"Hey man," said Charlie.

Hurley was the one person Charlie liked hearing from. His friend's adjustment back to the real world hadn't gone smoothly either and before long Hurley had checked himself back into that mental hospital he'd been in before the plane crash. Charlie wasn't the best at keeping in touch, so it was good that Hurley still called him regularly to let him know how he was doing.

"So…," Hurley began, "how are things?"

"About the same," Charlie said, "still living off the settlement money and trying to sort things out."

"I hear you," Hurley said. "I saw Jack the other day. He seems all right, he's working again, thinking of growing a beard so he'll stop getting recognized."

Charlie groaned. "Tell him to wear sunglasses instead. A beard would look bloody awful on him."

"Yeah, I kind of said that."

Charlie sensed another pause as if Hurley hadn't yet gotten around to the reason for the call.

"He came to see me because he wanted to know if I told anyone…" Hurley began.

Charlie felt his patience wearing thin at another one of these conversations. Why did everyone need to remind him? The nausea he felt earlier increased and his thoughts returned to his heroin again.

"Well?" Charlie asked with a sigh. "Did you?"

"No," said Hurley, "I told him I didn't, but that wasn't all. One of them came to see me."

"One of who?" asked Charlie.

"Well, he said he was a lawyer for Oceanic but he wouldn't show me his i.d. He freaked me out, asked me whether they're still alive."

Charlie felt his hands shake violently and a panic response rose up inside him telling him to run. He fought to keep control and hold the phone.

"Charlie, are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here," he said.

"You haven't said anything, have you?" Hurley asked him.

"No, all right?" Charlie snapped, temper flaring. "I said I wouldn't. Just, what did the bloke look like?"

"He was kind of tall and skinny and bald," said Hurley, "black dude. He offered to move me to a fancy private hospital and everything but I told him to take a hike."

Charlie thought of the man who met him in the alley whenever he called, keeping him supplied with a never ending stash of drugs, happy, numb and silent. It wasn't just him then.

They were everywhere.

"They're always watching us dude," Hurley said finally, "so be careful, okay?"

* * *

Everything was on fire. Their whole world. Hell had caught up with them at last.

It started without warning and within seconds there was panic in the air, people running in all directions, cabins going up like tinderboxes. Charlie had been out in the square with Aaron, sitting on a blanket, waiting for Claire to come and meet them for lunch when the apocalypse came. The sky opened up and rained fire.

Charlie picked Aaron up and starting running, screaming for Claire. Where had she said she would be? It didn't matter at the time so he had hardly paid attention. Things were good for so long they had started taking their security for granted. Now he wished he had listened to her.

"Claire!" he called, scanning the faces of the terrified crowd. Nearly all the buildings were burning now and bombs were still falling, seemingly from the clouds. There were no planes or anything, Charlie couldn't understand it. _Where the hell was Claire?_

It was impossible to check everywhere with Aaron. He wasn't about to run with the baby into a burning building. So he searched for the first familiar face he found that he could trust.

"Kate! Kate! Have you seen Claire?" he cried.

"No, but everyone's headed this way. I'm sure she'll be here," said Kate.

"I have to go look for her," said Charlie. "Can you take Aaron and keep him safe?"

Kate seemed momentarily taken aback at Charlie's request but there was no time to think. Another explosion burst from behind them and they both flinched. Aaron started to cry.

"Okay, no problem," she said. "We're going back to the beach. When you find Claire, meet us there."

Charlie didn't even have time to thank her; he just turned and ran off, determined to check every flaming house, every possible shelter. Was she taking a nap at home, or did she say she was visiting a friend?

"Claire!" he called as he ran.

When he reached the home they shared the porch was engulfed in flames. _Claire's porch_, Charlie thought, _the one she'd loved so much_. Skirting the flames he went through the open front door, calling into every room, feeling the heat sear his skin as though his home had been transformed into an oven. Stinging cinders landed on him from above and he knew the roof wasn't going to last. He checked the bedroom, but Claire wasn't there. He was just heading back out to the sitting room when half of the ceiling gave way behind him. Charlie stumbled and fell when something hit his legs, his sight dimmed by the thick black smoke.

"Charlie!"

He heard someone calling for him, but he was choking and it felt like his jeans had caught fire. He couldn't get up. Squinting from the ground he recognized Jack, coming towards him with an opened blanket. Kate must have told him where he'd gone. Jack threw the blanket over him and picked Charlie up.

"Charlie you've got to get out of here."

"Where's Claire," Charlie managed, lightheaded. "I can't find her."

"We'll find her, don't worry," said his friend.

"No, I'm not leaving without her," Charlie protested.

"You have to, it's not safe here, everyone's leaving," said Jack, half carrying him out. "We'll find her."

He tried calling for her again, wanting to pull away from Jack's protective arm and run, but his head and lungs hurt and he could barely see. He took one breath and a shaky step and remembered nothing else.

* * *

_Nine bloody hours on a plane. _

Charlie was jet lagged and exhausted. He had fixed just one time on the flight but almost couldn't do it when he took off his shoe and his memory flared inside the cramped lavatory. Then he told himself to shut it and carried on. It wasn't like his using had caused the sodding plane to crash. He had to, or he'd never make it to Los Angeles. This time he returned dreamily to his first class seat and the plane landed at LAX without incident.

Two hours later he was passing through a gated fence in the dark of night and stepping up onto a cozy, craftsman style porch with two white Adirondack chairs. Running his hands through his hair to smooth it as best he could, Charlie took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Seconds later she appeared behind the screen door. She took one look at him and frowned, not at all pleased at what she saw.

"I want to see him," Charlie slurred, leaning against the frame of the door.

"I don't think that's a good idea…," she started.

"Kate, please…." He pleaded.

"Charlie, you're high," said Kate. "How did you even get here without killing yourself?"

He didn't answer, but he felt his lids getting heavy. He slumped a bit and she must have taken pity on him because he heard her sigh as she opened the screen door and took him by the arm, steering him inside.

"Get in here," she said, leading him to the couch and pushing him down on it. When he sat, Kate turned and went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.

"When's the last time you ate something?" she asked him.

Charlie just leaned forward on his knees with his head in his hands.

"I want to see him," he repeated through his fingers.

"He's asleep," she said.

He sat up and looked at her desperately. "I won't wake him, I promise."

A whine and then a small cry from the next room turned both their heads. Kate gave Charlie a look that said _stay put_ and she went to the hallway.

"I'll be right back," she said.

A moment later Kate reemerged with a sleeper-clad toddler in her arms, clutching a small blue blanket that appeared as though he had long outgrown it. The child rubbed his eyes with one fist; his white blonde hair stuck out every which way but Charlie felt his heart swell at the sight of him. He looked more like Claire each time he saw him, a constant reminder of his grief, pleasure and pain woven together in a tight tapestry.

"Charlie's here," Kate told him.

"Hey, Aaron," Charlie greeted him. "So you're still sleeping with your favourite blanket yeah?"

Aaron was too tired to be social so instead he turned his head and buried it into Kate's shoulder, coyly.

"I'm just going to put him down again," said Kate.

"Noooo," complained Aaron suddenly.

"Aaron, listen to your mum," said Charlie, fighting to keep his voice from breaking. "I'll see you again soon, okay?"

Kate took Aaron back to his room and Charlie was alone again. He had held his emotions in check for so long that he couldn't hold them any longer. As soon as Kate was out of sight, the floodgates burst and he wept for all that he had lost, all that had been denied him. Utterly powerless to control the forces in his life, he felt a pain in his soul no drug could diminish.

Charlie didn't even notice Kate had returned until she was sitting down next to him.

"Charlie I'm sorry," she said.

Charlie stopped and wiped his eyes. "No, don't be. I should be thanking you for what you've done. You know if I could I would take him."

"I know," said Kate. "You need to concentrate on taking care of yourself now so you can move on."

"I can't move on," he said.

"You have to."

Suddenly Charlie turned on her. "What happened to the Kate from the island? The last time we were separated you told me to hold on to her things and that she'd be back…"

"Charlie, you know this is different."

"Why is it different Kate? I'm going to get her back."

"No one can know," she said, as though for the hundredth time.

"I don't care anymore. I've got nothing left to lose."

"What about Aaron?" said Kate, "Do you care what happens to him?"

Charlie deflated. "Of course I do but… he needs his mum. He needs _Claire_. _I_ need her."

Kate put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes brimming with sympathy, feeling the pain for a couple that never seemed to have a chance even when they were together. If Charlie was feeling persecuted he had every right. It wasn't fair. They had all had to make a devil's bargain but for Charlie in particular it was as if the weight of it was crushing him to bits. She wished she had more to offer than empty words.

"You know it's the only way to keep them safe, Charlie."

* * *

He ran out faster than expected this time. He had feared they wouldn't give him more so soon, but they were completely understanding. Charlie was back in the wretched alley, waiting for his contact. At times he would have moments of courage and imagine himself confronting the man with a knife, demanding to know how to get back to the island, but each time his need and fear overtook him and he simply collected his payment and shrank away.

_Next time,_ he'd say. _I'll do it next time I swear._

Charlie lurked in the dark. This time he was ready, his hand around the hilt of a pocket switchblade, squeezing it tightly to steady himself. Charlie was sick of wasting away. The other day he had another dream about Claire. She was crying, calling his name, begging him to come save her. When he woke he used so much he nearly overdosed, coming within a hair's width of dying for nothing. When he recovered, it was as if the experience had given him a new resolve.

Now he was prepared to get answers or die trying.

From the street a form appeared, entering the alley with intent. The backlighting from the lamps cast a gold aura around his shadowed face but Charlie could tell by the build this was not his usual contact. He pulled the knife out and took a step backward. The man was coming straight at him with no hesitation.

Charlie panicked and turned to run, but all at once he was upon him, grabbing his wrist from behind and twisting sharply until the knife fell from his hand. He cried out as he was shoved face first against the brick wall.

"No! Leave me alone! I haven't told anyone!"

The man turned him around. "Charlie, stop it! It's me, Sayid. I'm not here to hurt you."

Charlie's eyes widened at the sight of the Iraqi. Then he resumed his struggle, trying to free himself from the man's grip. One assassin or another, it mattered little which one.

"Do you expect me to believe that?" Charlie said.

"I know what you must think," said Sayid, "but you have to trust me. I'm taking you to a place where you can rehabilitate, and after that we're going back. There's a way. We can get Claire."

It was Charlie's turn to grab hold of his old friend.

"_How_?"

Sayid smiled, and for a moment he looked like the Sayid Charlie knew, before they had fallen through the rabbit hole into a hellish wonderland.

"I have connections."


End file.
